


By Any Other Name, You'd Be Just As Much Of An Asshole

by Wearysea



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alastor is in Hell for a Reason (Hazbin Hotel), And It's Alastor, Asexual Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Author Is Sleep Deprived, Demiromantic Husk (Hazbin Hotel), Husk Has A Type, Husk Is Majorly Into It, M/M, RadioHusk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-18 02:55:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21520717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wearysea/pseuds/Wearysea
Summary: Husk has a type, and if it's tall, murderous red heads then, well... that's his business.
Relationships: Alastor/Husk (Hazbin Hotel)
Comments: 40
Kudos: 515





	By Any Other Name, You'd Be Just As Much Of An Asshole

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [By Any Other Name, You'd Be Just As Much Of An Asshole](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23305795) by [9pffellery99](https://archiveofourown.org/users/9pffellery99/pseuds/9pffellery99), [Wearysea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wearysea/pseuds/Wearysea)



> RadioHusk

Alastor was a smug prick. Husk would hate him… if he wasn’t exactly Husk’s type. Damn it, Husk didn’t want to have a fuckin’ type, what Husk wanted was to dislike the smarmy bastard and go along with his un-life! … But he did like the smarmy, sarcastic, well-spoken, intelligent bastard.

Tall and thin, violent temper with a wicked bloodthirsty streak… and red hair. Husk didn’t know what it was about red hair, but the bright and vivid hue just caught his eye in a way no other hair colour did. God, he may not feel attraction like other demons, Alastor and him both, but the moment Husk saw him for the first time he wanted to grab that gorgeous piece of shit, pull him down to his level and plant one right on him. 

So yeah, he has a thing for Alastor, and he’ll be damned if he’d going to be anything other than an absolute little shit about it… well, he’s already damned, but you know what he means. The worst part was, the more he got to know the fucker, the more it actually became a romance thing instead of just finding him hot. 

Fuck. 

Shit. 

Piss. 

Motherfucker. 

Husk didn’t want to be thinking about taking the prick to restaurants, playing poker with him - or any kind of game really, listening to him talk about anything and everything… but he was. All the time. It was driving him insane. 

He nearly folded, this one time, and actually told Alastor how much he dug him, when he saw him lay into a guy five times his own size, ripping off an arm and eating chunks of it raw. Holy shit, that was awesome. He’d broadcasted it too, had demons all over the place upchucking at the squelching and crunching sounds. 

It was just so… Husk didn’t have the words for it. He didn’t know why he found the bloodshed so attractive; he just did. 

He always had felt this way, he’d had fallen in love with a serial killer when he’d been alive for much the same reason. This man had been his only romantic partner when they were alive, and the other had died young, in his late twenties and yes. The man had been his type. Perhaps the reason he had a type in the first place. 

He’d thought for sure that he’d have been sent to hell too, but everyone changed there names when they got down here, and there was every chance he’d been purged in the regular exterminations well before Husk had died anyway. 

He knew, the chances of seeing him again were very slim, but he couldn't help but hope… and drink. 

Boy, did he drink. 

Meeting Alastor took his mind off it, at the very least, and for some reason Alastor had developed a habit of dragging him into anything he was doing when he needed more than just his own set of hands… and some stuff that Husk was certain Alastor didn’t need any help with. 

Husk really didn’t know why Alastor wanted him around but he was glad he did, as much as he complained about having to participate in whatever bullshit Alastor was up to that day. 

This was how Husk ended up in the “Happy Hotel”, later “Hazbin Hotel”, working at the front desk… and bar, naturally. Even though he grumbled about it, this was a nice set up, he didn’t know what had possessed Alastor to put him in a position where he lazed around all day with unlimited access to booze, but Husk was thankful. This was nice. If he didn’t know better, he’d say maybe Alastor was trying to keep him happy. 

They’d known each other for a couple of decades by this point and Husk might have vented to him about how he was feeling now and again. It was no secret that Husk had some serious emotional issues, and it probably wasn’t a coincidence that Alastor pushed him into this not a few days after Husk had a breakdown in which he told Alastor that he wished he’d let himself get exterminated while crying and vomiting on the sidewalk. 

Not his proudest moment. 

But Alastor had cleaned him up and got him a job. 

Everything had been pretty uneventful for the few months afterwards, Angel’s shenanigans notwithstanding, right up until the Hotel’s other inhabitants had pushed farther than he realised he would. 

They’d found out Alastor’s true name. Angel had, specifically, after they’d all found out that his had been _Martin, thank you Arackniss. Fuck off now, please._

He’d gone snooping in hells records when Alastor had refused to give his, certain that it had been something embarrassing but no. It had been a relatively normal name; Angel didn’t recognise the significance of it… but Charlie did. 

It was the name that Husk cried over when he got even more spectacularly drunk than usual. 

Angel needed the details here, and he needed them now. “So, you and Husk used to know each other when you were alive? And he was… what? In love with you?”

“That is none of your business!” Alastor was very, very keen on shutting this down as quickly as possible, he didn’t know where Husk was and the consequences of him hearing any of this would be disastrous. 

Angel was a devious bastard though, and Vaggie didn’t like him enough to egg him on, and Charlie’s albeit curious but far more wanting to let Alastor have his privacy philosophy was swiftly overpowered. Much to Alastor’s chagrin. Angel would tell Husk. Alastor could not let Angel tell Husk, and Alastor couldn’t keep Angel away from him indefinitely. 

For the first time in a very long time, Alastor frowned. He didn’t see a way out of this, Angel now had something on him, it just “sucked major balls” as Crymini would say.

So Alastor told them. 

Not the whole story, but enough to keep their curiosity sated.

Alastor and Husk had known each other while they were alive, and yes, they had been in a… romantic relationship while they were alive. 

Alastor knew about it, had figured it out shortly after they’d met, there was no way that Husk could be anyone but his old sweetheart when they’d met at that cheesy circus act. Husker had always been so unironically enamoured with the whole thing and then he’d told Alastor he grew up in a casino and he knew. 

No, he hadn’t told Husk. 

Why?

It was… complicated. 

He struggled so much with romantic relationships in life, being asexual, not that he’d known at the time, and engaging in that type of relationship… he wasn’t sure what was going on. He loved Husker, still does, but the thought of reliving the same situation filled his lungs with cold water, even if he wanted Husk around all the time. Which he _did._

“Why did you never try to talk to him about it while you were alive?” 

“I didn’t know what to talk about! I didn’t know what asexuality was then, I just knew I wanted to be with him but that I was unhappy having sex! It was the 1930s, what was I supposed to say? I thought he’d leave me.” 

Charlie was extremely sympathetic to his plight, while she wasn’t ace herself, she understood the publics general opinion on any type of sexuality that isn’t straight and how difficult it was to have relationships in those circumstances. She really couldn’t wrap her head around why he didn’t try to talk it over with Husk now that he had the language to describe it, that Husk already knew Alastor’s sexuality and seemed fine with it. 

“You know what? I think I stand by my previous statement of ‘pulling the rug from under your ass’, you have any idea how rare it is to have your partner back once you die?”

Vaggie’s eyes flicker to Angel, surprise at agreeing with him filling them to the brim. 

“Maybe it would be a good idea to give them a little nudge.”

“You absolutely cannot tell Husker.” 

“I think that ships already sailed, buddy.” Angel looks almost sympathetic, maybe it’s because he felt sorry for Alastor’s problem, maybe it’s because of how furious Husk looks behind him. 

Alastor may as well have turned to stone. 

_ “Let’s get this straight,”  _ came a furious hiss from the doorframe, well out of Alastor’s line of sight. _“You figured out who I was three decades ago and you decided not to fucking tell me?”_

Alastor doesn’t respond, doesn’t even turn around to look at Husk, but instead runs past Vaggie and leaps out of the 133rd story window to the left of her. Angel’s loud “OHHHHHHHHHHHH DAMN” doesn’t register with Husk as he yells, “Oh, you’re not getting out of this that easily, you fucking coward! Get your skinny ass back here!” and follows his flaky fucker of a boyfriend all the way down. 

“… 10$ says Husk wins the fight.”

Husk more than won the fight, he kicked the shit out of the whole damn war, take that the entirety of Vietnam! Take that Alastor, the fucking love of his life that he is _never letting slip away from him again._

He made a public spectacle of it, the chase, screaming at Alastor through the streets, and Alastor just continuing to run as fast as he can on his broken leg. Husk suffers no such penalty, he severely dislikes being a catbird at the best of times, but he had to admit having wings has its perks. 

Alastor wasn’t going to voluntarily hurt Husk, so really, he didn’t stand a chance by design. 

But all the other demons in the street didn’t know that, all the public knew was that some cat with wings kicked one of the most powerful demons in hell in the balls while shrieking at him for being an idiot and _got away with it._

So, naturally, pretty much everybody who was anybody was wondering what the fuck was going on. What was going on was the renewal of a fling, some serious conversation about new boundaries, and some even more serious cuddle time. 

But no one gets to know about this but them, through hell or high water:

This asshole is his type. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, RosieQ for this excellent idea for a fic :)


End file.
